


We Were All Someone Else Yesterday

by inkworldtraveler



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, F/M, False Identity, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Canon Compliant, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-20 12:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkworldtraveler/pseuds/inkworldtraveler
Summary: One year after bringing about Homelander's downfall, Starlight and Queen Maeve are the faces of a newly rebuilt Vought. One night, after successfully completing a mission, Annie's world is shaken to its very foundations when she runs into a stranger that's an eerily perfect doppelganger of the very man she'd lured into death to save the people she loves. But Homelander is dead. Or is he?
Relationships: Hughie Campbell/Starlight | Annie January, The Homelander | John/Starlight | Annie January
Comments: 24
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

For a moment the rush of her own blood in her ears was the only thing Annie could hear, drowning out the groaning of the collapsing building around her. The heat was almost unbearable, even for her. Flames licked through door frames, the smoke making it hard to see anything more than five meters away. The electricity had gone down some time ago, leaving Annie stripped of her powers except for her superhuman strength. She sprinted down a corridor, covering her mouth and nose with one arm, her eyes watering from the acrid smoke. She kicked down a door, the synthetic material splintering under the force of her blow. A wave of relief washed over Annie as she was able to make out two cowering shapes in the corner of the room. _Finally. She’d found the last two._

“Come here!” she shouted, her voice raspy. A woman stumbled towards her, clutching a little girl to her chest, her eyes wide with terror. Annie reached out to them, clutching the woman’s free hand in a firm grip. “It’s going to be okay!” she shouted over the roar of the flames. It had taken longer to clear the way, blocked by collapsed door frames and walls, than Annie had expected. They needed to hurry up now, or neither of them would make it out alive. Her powers made Annie more resilient than normal people but even she could only survive being burned alive for that long. Pictures flooded in that threatened to swallow her; memories that had haunted her almost every night for a year now. She blocked a ceiling beam crashing down from above with one arm, almost too late. It exploded in a shower of embers and splinters of wood and a sharp pain pierced her cheek where something had bored into her skin. _Focus!_ She shoved the woman into the stairway, where her lungs filled with air that wasn’t as sulfurous yet. “We’re almost there!” she urged on the woman. 

When they finally reached the street Annie was shaking violently from exertion and gasping for fresh air, the flashes of cameras blinding her momentarily. Sirens were wailing, firefighters rushed past her, people’s frightened voices filled the air. 

“Starlight! What can you tell us about how the fire happened? Was it fire-raising? Did everyone make it out?” reporters and onlookers were pressing in on her, shoving microphones and smartphones into her face. Annie had to blink a couple of times to make the white spots disappear from her vision. She still didn’t like this part about the job, but it was an evil she accepted if it meant she had managed to save lives once again. 

“Everyone made it out!” she said, and only now that the imminent danger was over an overwhelming wave of relief washed over her, making her sway slightly on her feet. This was why she wanted to be a hero. To do good. She was even more fiercely determined of this now than she’d been a year ago. People kept telling her that they’d done the right thing, that there’d been no other way. But still, the guilt and horror of deliberately having caused another human’s death had shattered everything Annie had ever believed in and everything she’d thought herself to be. Even if it had been a person as terrible and dangerous as Homelander.

✴

Annie patiently answered the questions of the press even though there was nothing she wanted more than to get back to Vought tower, strip out of her ruined costume and take a shower to wash off the smell of sulfur, grime and sweat. When the reporters finally let her go she put her head back, taking in the upper floors of the building that had been destroyed by the fire, where isolated nests of embers still glowed brightly in the approaching dusk. Her whole body was stiff and aching and she slowly made her way through the still dense cluster of people to where a Vought van was waiting to take her home. She didn’t know what it was that made her look in this direction at this exact moment, later she often wondered if it had been fate or pure coincidence. Her gaze met a face among all these people that was so eerily familiar to her that her heart stopped for a moment, as it was a face she’d seen a million times in dreams and nightmares alike. Her breath left her lungs in a gasp and she squinted her eyes shut for a few seconds. _It wasn’t him. He was dead. She’d lured him into a trap and he was dead._

When Annie opened her eyes again, dread filled every inch of her body. She could see him as clear as day, even though he wasn’t facing her way. No one seemed to pay him any special attention with all the bustle around them and he blended in with the people well enough. Slim black jeans, Levi’s jacket, taking photos of the burned down building with a professional looking camera. It was a sight that Annie’s brain still had trouble processing as she moved towards him like a sleepwalker. _It’s not him. He’s dead._

“Hey!” when Annie was close enough she reached for his arm and even though she knew it was a product of her imagination, touching him seemed to send a wave of electricity through her body. He startled slightly at her touch, turning around to her in surprise. Meeting Homelander’s eyes had never failed to unsettle her but never as much as it did at this moment. Cause this was not a man that resembled Homelander, or a man that reminded her of Homelander. This was a perfect carbon-copy of Homelander, down to the tiniest detail. The same bright blue eyes, the same habit to blink rapidly when surprised, the faint line on his forehead above his left eyebrow, the tiny little dent on the tip of his nose. Annie’s insides clenched into a tight ball, she was unable to speak, her hand still gripping his upper arm.

“Uh… yeah?” The familiarity of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. He stared at her with the slightly blank expression of someone who was looking at a complete stranger. There was not a hint of recognition on his face.

“I… I’m sorry… I just thought...,” Annie struggled for words. “I just thought you were someone I knew.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small, slightly puzzled smile. “I think I would remember meeting Starlight of the Seven.”

“Yeah, sure! I’m… sorry,” she finally let go of his arm while he watched her curiously. 

“No problem,” he said with a laugh and Annie couldn’t help but stare at his too-sharp canines. 

“Are you a… journalist?” Annie asked cautiously, her voice sounding weirdly constrained even to her own ears, all while her mind was screaming: _He’s Homelander and somehow he’s alive. He’s alive and pretending to be a guy who doesn’t know me._

“Freelance photographer,” he said, producing a business card from the pocket of his jacket while these startling blue eyes watched her in an expression she couldn’t read. On the card was a mobile number, an email, a website and: a name. _John Evans._

“Sorry, I really need to get going,” he said apologetically, checking his phone. “It was very nice to meet you. Starlight.”

“Yeah, of course! Don't let me keep you,” Annie stuttered, her thoughts reeling. He gave her a smile before he turned away and she watched him weave his way through the crowd until the bustle on the sidewalk finally swallowed him, leaving her behind alone and shaken to the core.


	2. Chapter 2

Back at Vought tower Annie didn’t take her much longed-for shower but went straight to Maeve’s apartment on the 99th floor. Hammering against the door, she tried to sort her spinning thoughts, to little avail. 

“Jesus, I’m coming,” Maeve said when she finally opened the door, sounding exasperated as usual, but the irritation on her face faltered when she caught sight of Annie’s state. “What happened to you?” she asked, perplexed, taking in Annie’s singed costume and dirty face. Maeve was in leggings and an oversized sweater, her auburn hair tied into a loose ponytail. It was obvious that she’d planned on calling it a day.

“There was a fire in Brooklyn,” Annie said. “I cleared the building. But that’s not important now. Maeve, Homelander’s alive! I saw him. He’s pretending to be this guy, this… normal guy. And he gave me this business card and he claims that his name is John Evans and that he’s a photographer and he acted like he didn’t know me,” the words tumbled out of Annie’s mouth at such a high speed that the frown on Maeve’s face deepened. She looked genuinely concerned now. 

“Whoa, whoa, Annie! Slow down.” She gently steadied her by the shoulders and steered her inside, closing the door behind them. “You saw… Homelander?” Maeve asked slowly, walking Annie over to the sofa and proceeding to the minibar. She poured two whiskeys, handing one to Annie, who took it but forgot about it as soon as her fingers had closed around the cool glass. 

“I know, it sounds crazy. But it was him. He was just… casually standing there on the street.” Sudden anger boiled up inside Annie when she saw the partly sympathetic, partly doubting expression on Maeve’s face. She ripped the business card out, holding it out to Maeve. Obviously, it didn’t have a photo. Mave took it, taking it in with a frown. After a moment, she sat down next to Annie with a sigh. “Look… You’ve been through a lot this past year…”

“Maeve!” Annie protested, but Maeve talked over her. “It’s not uncommon to have flashbacks. Especially not after the stress and fear you’ve been exposed to. Maybe this is just your mind processing what has happened.” Her face hardened. “But that motherfucker is gone, once and for all. It’s been one year. He’s dead.”

“There was no dead body,” Annie persisted.

Maeve sighed, unnerved. “Annie, you have to let go of him! He’s been controlling our lives for long enough. I must know. Forget about him, for your own peace of mind.”

“I talked to him!” Annie flared up, her voice almost rising to a shout. “I was  _ this close _ to him. Touched him.”

“You… talked to him?” This seemed to really surprise Maeve. It was one thing to imagine a face somewhere in a crowd, it was another thing to talk to a person who was supposedly dead. “What did he want?”

“Nothing!” Annie groaned. “I approached  _ him _ .”

“Okay, okay… here’s what we're going to do,” Maeve said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to look into this. That’s him, right?” She held up the business card and Annie nodded. “But you need to calm down now. It’s no use to panic right now. I’m sure there is a logical explanation for all this.”

Annie nodded mechanically, getting up from the sofa. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Back in her apartment on the other side of the Tower Annie took a scalding hot shower, aggressively scrubbing the dirt off her body, but it gave her no comfort. Her hair still wet, she slipped into pyjamas and slumped down onto her bed. Grabbing her phone from the bedside table she texted ‘need to talk to you asap!!!’ to Hughie. It still gave her a pang thinking about how they’d spent whole nights talking and now everything was awkward. The past year had been difficult for all of them. It had been her who’d needed a break though, to process what she’d done. He hadn’t been mad at her, he’d just kissed her on the forehead and told her it was going to be okay, which somehow had hurt even worse. They hadn’t seen each other for months after that but at least they were back to talking now.

Her message was still unread and so she did the very thing Maeve had told her not to do. John Evans’ website was clean and modern, showing off landscape photography, architecture, portraits. Whoever had taken these photos was definitely a professional. There was no ‘about me’ page or whatever and no photo of his face. Annie proceeded to search Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. Frustrated, she typed his name into the Google search for about the fifth time, when an incoming video call showed up on the screen. She clicked ‘accept’ faster than she could think. “Hughie, thank God!”

“Annie, are you okay?” Hughie’s face appeared on the screen, his forehead creased and his blue eyes wide with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “It’s so good to see you.”

His face softened. “I saw you on the news. Doing badass supe stuff and kicking the bad guys’ asses.”

She laughed. She’d almost forgotten how easy it was to talk to him.

“But seriously Annie, what’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A shudder ran through her body and she took a deep breath before she quickly summarized what had happened earlier today.

“Holy shit,” Hughie said when she’d finished. “That must’ve been terrifying.”

She nodded. “I felt like I was going insane. Hughie, what if it’s really him?”

Hughie remained silent for a moment. “We’re going to figure something out. I promise. And Annie? Stay away from him. If this really is Homelander… just don’t put yourself into danger.”

“I won’t,” she replied with a faint smile. “Scout’s honor.”

After they’d ended the call Annie lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. She didn’t find sleep that night.

✴

Two weeks passed without any news about the whole John Evans situation. Maeve was busy with her new role as leader of the Seven and so far, Annie had not heard back from her. Together with Hughie, she’d done some digging, but without much success. Her frustration and anxiety was growing by the day. She’d played with the thought of just calling or emailing ‘John Evans’, who more and more felt like a persona the more their research came to nothing. There was still one thing she hadn’t tried though and she’d come to a point where she could barely think of anything else. So one afternoon she headed down to the floor where Vought’s analyst department was located, not wearing her costume but casual clothes. She approached a young woman she thought she remembered was named Anika.

“Hi. Excuse me,” Annie said, suddenly not at all sure anymore that this was a good idea. 

“Oh. Starlight!” Anika said, surprised, straightening her glasses. 

Annie had to fight the urge to shush her. She didn’t want to attract the attention of everyone in the room.

“Can I ask you a favor? It’s for a case I’m working on,” she asked in a lowered voice. 

“Uh, sure,” Anika replied, studying her curiously.

Annie’s heart gave a little jolt of excitement. “I need to track down someone. He might have some important information,” Annie began, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. “His name is John Evans.”

She watched over Anika’s shoulder as she tapped away on her keyboard, data flashing over the screens that Annie didn’t understand. It was tedious work to sift through all the people named John Evans in New York City even after they’d narrowed the search by age and ethnicity. 

“Stop! That’s him!” Annie’s voice came out so sharp that a few people turned around to stare at her. Her eyes were burning from staring at the screen for what felt like hours but now that she’d finally found him everything seemed to shift back into focus. Anika’s face paled slightly as she stared at the photo. Obviously, every Vought employee would recognize Homelander in a heartbeat. “What…,” Anika began. 

“Can you give me his address?” Annie interrupted her in an urgent whisper. 

“Um, yeah, but…,” Anika turned around in her chair and gave Annie a worried look. Annie tried to communicate with her eyes that this was  _ important  _ and after a moment, Anika nodded.

Annie heaved a sigh of relief when Anika handed her a post-it with an address scrawled over it. “Thank you! I owe you one.”

✴

Annie knew that this was a bad idea. This was exactly the kind of thing that could get you killed. But she was unable to resist the urge to get to the bottom of this. She’d been sitting at the window seat in a small café opposite the building where John Evans lived for almost two hours now and her body was vibrating from the impact of four cups of coffee. She’d barely touched the piece of pie in front of her, scanning the sidewalks for a sign of him. When she finally felt like she was wasting her time, she got up and crossed the street, unfolding the slip of paper for about the hundredth time. The building was a typical upper class NYC townhouse. Taking a deep breath, Annie climbed the stairs to the front door and with a surge of adrenaline, rang the doorbell. For a few moments, nothing happened, but when the door finally opened Annie had to fight an overwhelming urge to run. 

“Starlight,” John said, an expression of genuine surprise on his face. He was wearing jeans and a crewneck sweater and there was about five days worth of stubble on his jaw which made him look very un-Homelander-like.

“Um, hi,” Annie said, fighting to keep her voice even. “I hope I'm not intruding?”

“No, not at all.”

“The thing is… at the fire two weeks ago… I was wondering if I could take a look at the photos you’ve taken? I’m working on a case.”

“Sure. Yeah, come in,” he held the door open for her. She smiled, stepping inside, and she couldn’t shake the thought that if he wanted to kill her, she was handing the perfect opportunity to him on a silver platter.

The inside of the house was light and modern and expensive.

“This way,” he said, leading the way into what looked to be the living room. There were shelves with vinyl records and books and a framed Blade Runner movie poster on the wall. He switched on an iMac and turned around to her, leaning against the desk. 

“So there’s more to the fire?” he asked, watching her with his head slightly tilted. 

“Yeah, maybe. We’re not sure yet,” Annie replied evasively. They lapsed into awkward silence. “So, do you want to take a look at the photos here or…,” he asked, clicking through some folders. 

“Yeah, here’s fine,” Annie said, trying to sound appreciative. She stepped next to him, catching a faint whiff of his aftershave and her blood turned cold. She was one hundred percent sure that this was the exact same citrus and sandalwood scent that Homelander had always worn since she’d first met him. 

“Are you okay? You seem a little, I don’t know, shaky,” he asked. They were so close to each other that she could make out every tiny speck in his blue irises.

“I’m fine, just… overworked,” Annie deflected. She spent the next about twenty minutes pretending to look for something in particular in the photos, all the while breathing in his familiar scent that made her heart race. She asked him if he could email her the photos, just in case, and he agreed. Annie’s senses were strung to breaking point until she was outside again. As she walked down the stairs to the street, she paused and turned back around to him. “Can we maybe meet again sometime?”

He looked taken aback for a second, almost a little flustered. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

“I’m Annie, by the way.”


	3. Chapter 3

On Friday, Annie took a day off, dawdling away the time at Hughie’s place, lying side by side on his bed playing Mario Kart. It was the one thing he never failed to beat her at, but she didn’t mind. He’d gotten himself a small flat of his own that was crammed with CDs, vinyl records and band posters and Billy Joel was playing in the background, as usual. It was a weirdly melancholic yet comforting atmosphere. When she’d lost yet another game she put the controller aside, rolling onto her side to face him. 

Hughie switched off the TV, his expression turning serious. She’d told him about her visit to Homelander’s house (that’s what she still called him in her head) because she just couldn’t bear the thought of secrets getting between them and ruining everything again. He’d freaked out a little, telling her that this had been very reckless of her and that she should’ve at least told him. He was right, it had been stupid. It also didn't make things better that Homelander was still a kind of touchy subject between them.

“What if I just call John and ask him if he wants to come along for some drinks tonight? I’m pretty sure he’d agree.”

Hughie’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to bring Homelander… to trivia night?”

“Well, yeah? It would be a perfect opportunity for you to take a look at him in an area where he can’t just, like, murder us.”

Hughie remained silent for a moment. “But what if he’s just a guy that looks a lot like Homelander? I mean, that’s a thing right? Isn’t everyone supposed to have a doppelganger somewhere on earth?”

Annie sighed, exasperated. “You haven’t seen him! He’s not some weird twin or whatever.”

Hughie sat up, his forehead creased. “It’s just… trivia night has always felt like, I dunno, a safe space for us. I know that’s dumb but…”

“It’s not,” Annie interrupted him gently and she had to fight the overwhelming urge to hug him.

He smiled at her. “Okay. Don’t listen to me. Call him. I bet Homelander sucks at trivia night.”

Hughie watched her as she dialled John’s number, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. 

“Yeah?” a familiar voice answered after a moment.

“Hi. It’s Starlight… uhm… Annie,” she said. Hughie silently mouthed ‘ _Annie?_ ’ at her and she gave him a ‘don’t judge’ look in return.

“Oh. Hi.” She didn’t know if she imagined it, but she thought there was a hint of appreciation in John's voice.

“I was just wondering if you had any plans for tonight? Me and a friend are heading out for some drinks later. It's trivia night at the Tiki Bar. It’s always a lot of fun actually.”

There was definitely a smile in his tone now as he replied. “Sounds great. Yeah, definitely.”

“Awesome. We’ll be there at nine. I’ll just text you the address, okay?”

“Okay. Uh, see you later then. Annie.” His voice softened a little at her name.

“And?” Hughie asked anxiously after she’d hung up. She just nodded, breathing out shakily. 

“Okay, right,” Hughie said, as if he was trying to hype himself up for a difficult task. “So what are we going to do once he shows up? If this really is Homelander I don’t think he’ll be exactly thrilled to see me.”

“I know,” Annie said, thinking. “What if we just try to get him drunk and pump him for details? Maybe he lets his cover slip.”

Hughie frowned. “You know that this is going to be absolutely terrifying, right?”

✴

A couple of hours later Annie was bouncing up and down on her feet, nervously scanning the people bustling along the sidewalk. The Tiki Bar had been their favourite pub for some time now. It was a small place that hosted a heated trivia night every friday and it kind of felt like the one unwavering bit of normality in Annie’s life.

Hughie paced up and down in front of her, checking the time on his phone about every ten seconds. 

“He’ll show up,” Annie said, partly to reassure herself. “Hughie,” she stopped him in his tracks by grabbing his arm. “I need to tell you something real quick.”

She produced a silver strip containing small, white pills from the pocket of her jacket, showing it to him in her cupped hand. 

Hughie’s eyes widened. “Are these… roofies?” he asked, startled. Annie nodded quickly, her chest constricting with a pang of guilt. “Just in case,” she whispered.

“Fuck, Annie, I don’t know…,” Hughie replied in a lowered voice, concern written all over his face.

He opened his mouth to say something else when his body suddenly went rigid, his eyes widening at something in Annie’s back. She spun around, her hand clenching into a fist around the pills. “Fucking hell,” Hughie whispered under his breath, staring with unconcealed bewilderment at what was a spitting image of Homelander. John was walking towards them, his hands buried in the pockets of the same denim and teddy fur jacket he’d worn when Annie had first met him. He’d shaved off his beard, his blond hair was slicked back neatly and the pleasant yet somehow standoffish smile on his face made him look awfully similar to how Homelander had always acted in public. Annie hastily shoved the roofies deep into her pocket, her heart giving an almost painful jolt at the thought of him catching a glimpse of it. She didn’t know if she just imagined it, but it looked like his pupils dilated for a split second as he took in Hughie.

“Hi,” he said, his eyes lingering on Annie, and he almost sounded a bit shy. 

_Wants to make himself look innocuous._

“Hey!” Annie said, giving him a smile. “Uh, John, this is Hughie.”

“Hi,” Hughie said in a voice that sounded too cheerful to be genuine and for a second Annie was afraid he’d try to shake John’s hand.

“So, should we go inside?” Annie suggested. She suddenly felt like her plan had been a mistake. She should’ve never let this man get close to her friends ever again.

They seized their regular table at the back of the room and the awkwardness of the situation combined with the stuffy air made Annie’s palms grow sweaty. 

“Okay, I’m going to get us a pitcher,” she said. “Watermelon Mint Mojito as always?”

While Annie struggled to shove through the people towards the bar, Hughie could feel an almost unbearable silence pressing down on them. He vividly remembered that one time he’d involuntarily come face to face with Homelander at Believe Expo, an experience that gave him anxiety to this day. Homelander had more than enough reasons to hate them and Hughie was sure that he would not miss any opportunity to burn them to the ground.

“So where do you know Annie from?” John asked and Hughie had a feeling as if these piercing blue eyes were X-raying him, which was quite literally possible.

It made a lump form in his stomach. Whoever this guy was, he had no right to call her ‘Annie’ like they were old friends or something. Hughie was spared a reply when Annie returned, balancing three glasses and a pitcher. 

“It’s nice here,” John said, taking in the surfer-style furnishings with an expression that allowed no assumption as to whether he actually liked it or just tried to act like a regular guy.

“This is totally the best place,” Annie replied, striking a light tone. “They’ve got the best trivia questions and I could just inhale their whole menu.”

“Well, then, to a successful trivia night,” Hughie said.

✴

“Who is the artist of the theme song ‘We Used To Be Friends’ of the TV show _Veronica Mars_?” Stu, the host and owner of the bar, read into the microphone.

“Oh! Oh oh oh, I know this!” Annie said excitedly. “The Dandy Warhols! One hundred percent!” It was already well into the night and weirdly enough, the evening hadn’t been entirely terrible so far, which probably meant that she was way more drunk than she’d realized. Nothing outright weird or scary had happened so far and John pretty much acted like a normal person who was slowly acclimatizing himself to a new group of people. They’d tried to ask some questions but it was hard to not come across as blatantly suspicious. The only bit of information they’d gotten was that John had supposedly lived abroad for the last couple of years and only returned to New York a few months ago and that he had no family. _Convenient_. The alcohol made Annie feel giddy and light-headed and she was overly aware of how she’d edged closer to John while writing on their answer sheet, her thigh slightly touching his. She didn’t know what exactly made her do it, but she edged ever so slightly closer. She caught a glimpse of his face out of the corner of her eye and even though he didn’t look at her there was a small smile on his face. He nudged her back with his knee and she felt heat creep up her neck.

“So, are you still investigating that fire?” he asked casually, meeting Annie’s eyes.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” she said quickly but her throat felt suddenly tight. She tried to fight back memories of what had happened a year ago and she wondered whether this was some sick game Homelander was playing to punish her for what she’d done.

Sometime later during a break in the trivia game they craned their necks to watch John, who was talking to the barkeeper at the other end of the room, laughing.

“So, what do you think?”, Annie asked.

“I have absolutely no idea what to think anymore,” Hughie said. “What if he’s Homelander but he doesn’t, like, remember being Homelander?”

“What, like he’s got amnesia or something?”

Hughie just shrugged, stumped for an answer. 

Annie’s fingers curled around the roofies in her pocket and before she could change her mind she dropped them into John’s half empty glass where they dissolved in a matter of seconds as she stirred with the straw.

Hughie gave her a sharp look. “Annie! That would knock out a man twice his size! What if it gives him a heart attack or something?”

“He’ll be fine,” Annie said, even though she wasn’t so sure of that. It sent a shiver down her spine when a voice in the back of her head said _‘And if it gives him a heart attack there’s one less problem you need to worry about’_. She knew that it was a fucked up thing to think and it felt like these thoughts didn’t even belong to her. She was a fucking hypocrite, calling herself a hero.

“Listen, Hughie,” she whispered, pushing the overwhelming guilt to the back of her mind. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll walk back home with him and once he’s knocked out, I’ll search the house.”

An expression of genuine shock spread over Hughie’s features. “Annie, no! That’s a terrible idea! I will not leave you alone with this guy!”

She reached over the table, squeezing his hand and giving him a pleading look. “I promised to not put you into danger ever again. I’ll be fine.”

They both startled so violently when John sat back down next to Annie that he let out a short laugh. “Whoa, relax. It’s just me.”

For the rest of the evening, Annie couldn’t look away whenever John sipped his drink. She could feel Hughie’s eyes on her, the mixture of worry and disapproval on his face making her feel like a terrible person. He was too good for her. He should’ve still been with Robin, living a happy, normal life unbothered by the inevitable destruction Vought and everyone involved with them brought.

By the time the crowd disbanded and they headed outside the night had turned chilly. 

“Take care,” Hughie said, his voice sounding painstakingly composed.

“I’ll text you later,” Annie whispered and it broke her heart when she watched him go. She suddenly felt terribly alone and scared.

“Come on,” she said to John, draping his arm around her shoulders and putting a steadying hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beat wildly beneath her fingers and the warmth radiating off of his body, a stark contrast to the cold air of the night creeping into her bones. His whole body was shaking violently and there was a sheen of feverish sweat on his face.

“I miss you, Annie,” he said quietly, leaning his forehead against her temple. Annie froze. “What do you mean? You don’t know me.”

He drew away from her and it almost looked like he was struggling not to tear up. His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and the next thing she knew was that his lips were on hers and also that he was crying. His shaky breath was brushing against her mouth when they broke apart. “You and me, we belong together,” he said in a slurred voice, almost pleading, and he drew her into a tight embrace, their quickened heartbeats hammering against each other.


	4. Chapter 4

_One year earlier_

Annie was shaking with rage as she left her latest mandatory meeting with the marketing guys, Ashley’s shrill voice still ringing in her ears. She hated almost every idea they came up with, from her costume to her brand to how she was supposed to rattle off scripts. People were giving her wry looks as she stormed past, muttering under their breaths. She hated it. All she’d ever wanted was to be a hero, out on the streets, helping people, fighting real crime, not a celebrity or influencer or whatever who was followed all day by cameras doing staged rescues and wasting time shooting awful movies and skin-care commercials.

She shoved open the door to the bathroom where she’d already had a good amount of breakdowns since she’d joined the Seven. For a moment she was too caught up in her own raging thoughts to realize that there was already someone there. Annie froze, the breath catching in her throat with a quiet gasp. Homelander was bent over one of the sinks, his head lowered and his back turned to her so that his frame was blocking his reflection from her view. Annie’s blood curdled, dread rising inside of her. Why did she have to run into him of all people? Over the last couple of months the people who through some weird cosmic coincidence had become her closest friends had wanted nothing more than to destroy Vought and Homelander. This also meant that Homelander wanted nothing more than to destroy the people Annie cared about the most. Since Madelyn Stillwell’s death he seemed to have lost his grip on sanity completely, spiralling deeper into madness the more he was cornered, making him even more dangerous and unpredictable. During the last weeks his public image had suffered a lot and there was a heated discussion in the media now whether it was safe to have a mentally unstable man with the powers of a God run free. Today he’d once again failed to show up to a meeting the Seven were supposed to have with Mr Edgar, snubbing Vought’s president not for the first time as of late.

Annie almost didn’t dare to breath. Homelander’s gloved hands were clenched around the rim of the sink, his hunched shoulders trembling. It was only then that she realized he was shaking with silent sobs. It made her heart sink. If he caught her now, having seen him in this state, he would probably rip her head off. Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. He appeared to be so caught up in his own bubble of distress that the thumping of her racing heart and the adrenaline rushing through her body had gone unnoticed by him. Annie took one careful step back and Homelander’s head snapped up. He spun around, staring at her through red-rimmed eyes. His tear-stained face contorted with rage, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He looked miserable, barely a shadow of the shining hero she’d admired since she’d been a kid. He’d lost a rather extreme amount of weight, his face looked gaunter and pallid and his eyes were puffy, with dark shadows of exhaustion around them.

“ _You_ ,” he growled through gritted teeth, taking a step towards her. Annie backed away until the wall stopped her from retreating any further. 

“Are you happy now that your fucking friends have ruined everything? Yeah, go on, laugh at me!” His voice was wavering slightly, thick with bitterness.

“I wasn’t going to laugh,” Annie said soothingly, her heart beating way up in her throat. His anger seemed to deflate as quickly as it had soared up, leaving him standing in the middle of the room like a puppet with its strings cut. “Just go away, Starlight,” he said, turning his back on her. “Go and be the damn goodie two shoes that everyone loves and leave me alone.”

Even though every sense in her body was telling her to bolt, Annie hesitated. It was weird, and she cursed herself for being so damn stupid, but part of her was feeling sorry for him. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to just be Starlight, to not have her normal identity as Annie January to get away from the craziness of living a public life under the control of Vought. And as much as she wanted to get out of this situation, this was the perfect opportunity to do what she was supposed to, even if it made her insides churn with self-loathing. _Gain his trust, make him feel like you’re not a threat._

She slowly edged closer, the way one would approach a dangerous animal. When her hand gently touched his shoulder, Homelander’s body went rigid and for a split second she was sure he’d laser her on the spot. But he didn’t. He met her eyes, an expression of bewilderment on his face. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, calmingly rubbing his back, and he held still, letting her touch him. After a moment he snapped out of his trance, drawing away from her. 

“I have to go now,” he said, turning around and leaving her behind alone.

✴

Later that evening Annie lay on her bed, turning over in her head everything that’d happened over the last couple of days. She reached inside the pocket of her jeans, touching the small glass vial she’d carried around for almost a week now. _Anti-V._

She vividly remembered the moment she’d found out about it. It had given her a small shock, learning that Vought had an antidote to Compound V at their command. The thought alone of losing her powers made Annie shiver. After all, she didn’t know what life was without them. She’d been with Hughie in this awful basement lair he and the others hid in, when Billy Butcher had shown up with none other than Stan Edgar, Vought’s president, in tow. It had caused a commotion, everyone thinking they’d been busted. But as it had turned out, Billy had once again made plans of which he had not thought it necessary to inform the rest of the team. Mr Edgar had mustered the lair with an air of slight disgust, producing a single vial of a red liquid from the pocket of his suit jacket.

_“I advise you to stick to the deal, Mr Butcher. You dose Homelander with the Anti-V, I’ll take care of him afterwards.”_

_After Mr Edgar had left, everyone crowded around Billy, staring at the vial he held between his fingers._

_“The motherfucking just never stops coming with Vought,” Billy said with a laugh. “Anti-V. We should’ve known that slick Edgar bastard had an ace up his sleeve to pull the plug on Homelander.”_

_Annie hung back a little, watching Billy warily. She still didn’t like him and the aversion was mutual. She’d once told to his face that he wasn’t much different from Homelander and she still believed it to be true._

_“And how exactly are we going to give this to Homelander?” Hughie asked_. 

_“I'm glad you asked!” Billy said, clapping Hughie on the shoulder. “That’s where your little girlfriend comes into play.”_

_“Wait, what?” Annie said._

_“Well obviously, you’re the one who’s gonna do it. You’re fucking roommates with Homelander. Just flutter your eyelashes, hop into bed with him and once he’s asleep…” Billy shrugged as if all of this was obvious._

_“Excuse me?” Annie flared up. “I’m not a whore!”_

_“See, I don’t care how exactly you do it. But it’s the best shot we got.”_

_“So, that’s your great plan?” Annie said, giving a curt humorless laugh. “That I do all the work that could get me killed while you sit here and wait?”_

_“Do you have a better plan?” Billy retorted, an annoyed edge to his voice._

_Annie’s blood started to boil at the smug look on his face when she didn’t have an answer._

_“And what did Mr Edgar mean with ‘take care of Homelander afterwards’?” she asked. “What if he’s going to kill him?”_

_Billy gave her a look as if this was exactly what he’d expected her to say. “Would that be a problem for you? But if it makes you feel any better, I have no idea what Edgar is planning on doing with him.”_

She was absentmindedly turning the vial between her fingers when there was a soft knock on the door of her apartment. Annie sat up, alert. She didn’t expect anyone. Quickly shoving the vial back into the pocket of her hoodie, she moved over to the door and opened. She met Homelander’s blue eyes, her lips parting slightly in surprise. He’d tidied himself up, his face wasn’t puffy anymore and he was wearing his suit as always, even though it was already past eleven. Annie had never seen him wear anything casual no matter how late the hour. 

“Uh, hey,” he said, sounding weirdly subdued.

“Hi,” Annie replied, baffled.

“So… I was just wondering if you were busy right now.”

“No, I was just… hanging around,” Annie answered vaguely.

“I thought that maybe we could watch a movie or something?” he asked, his eyes quickly darting between her face and the floor.

Annie was lost for words for a couple of seconds. It dawned on her that in his weird, socially inept way he was trying to befriend her. Also, he was giving her the perfect opportunity to get close to him, even though he didn’t know that.

“Uhm, yeah. Sure, why not.” She held the door open, letting him inside. For some reason she had to think about inviting a vampire over your doorstep, putting the nail in your own coffin.

They spent a moment in awkward silence, looking vaguely in each other’s direction but not locking eyes. 

“So, do you know The Nice Guys? It’s really good... It’s with Ryan Gosling.” Annie said to break the silence.

Homelander stared at her with a blank expression and it was obvious that he had no idea who Ryan Gosling was. “Okay, yeah,” he said with a small smile and they awkwardly sat down on the sofa while Annie searched up the movie on Netflix. She could feel Homelander’s eyes on her and it made her skin prickle. She tried to brace herself for what she was going to do.

“Come here,” she said, the words sounding completely ridiculous out of her mouth.

Homelander stared at her, perplexed, but then he moved over, curling up next to her and resting his head in her lap. Everything inside Annie was in a muddle. He obviously thought that this was the normal way to act. Trying to figure out what to do, she slowly ran her fingers through his hair and his eyes closed in contentment. The movie played muffled in the background while she kept playing with his hair until eventually his breathing slowed and flattened out. She held her breath when she slid out from under him, heading to the bathroom to fetch a syringe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone 👋 I really hope you enjoyed this! 😊 Comments and kudos are very much appreciated ❤


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